


When you lose something you can't replace

by fickleauthor



Category: Free!
Genre: Character Death, Established Relationship, Grief/Mourning, M/M, there are happy bits too i swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-02-26 04:11:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2637548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fickleauthor/pseuds/fickleauthor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Makoto decides to become a firefighter and all is going well– until it's not, and Haru is left to pick up the pieces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When you lose something you can't replace

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something for Makoto's birthday (17th November). Ironically, I ended up with this. But hey, it's the thought that counts right?

"If a great wave shall fall 

It will fall upon us all

Well I hope there's someone out there

Who can bring me back to you"

Wherever You Will Go – The Calling 

 

 You don’t know what made Makoto change his mind. He’d entered Tokyo University and chose to major in early childhood education so he could eventually work in schools and teach children how to swim. He studied really hard too, and you could tell he was passionate about helping children overcome their fear of water. Yet one day, over dinner, he suddenly broached the subject of becoming a firefighter.

 “What?” you said, confused. 

 “I think,” he repeated, this time with more certainty, “–I want to be a fireman.”

 “What about teaching children how to swim?” you asked, frowning, your ramen momentarily forgotten.

 “I want to do that too, and maybe Coa– Sasabe-san,” he amended, “–will let me teach there on my days off or during the weekend. But this–being a fireman, it just feels like the right decision.”

 You’d tried to talk him out of it of course, and maybe that was selfish of you but being a fireman was a dangerous job and you didn’t want him to get hurt, didn’t want anything bad to happen to him. 

 But Makoto had been adamant; he’d made up his mind and signed up for all the necessary courses. By the time you were twenty-four and contemplating retiring from competitive swimming, he’d become a full-fledged firefighter. 

 You had been so proud of him. Seeing him smile in his firefighter uniform on the day of his graduation, looking like the very embodiment of strong, brave and kind–it was like he was born to wear that uniform and when you told him as much, his face had flooded with colour. 

 You attended a celebratory dinner with him and the rest of the cadets; everyone was in high spirit and the dangers of firefighting were so far in the back of your mind. Your boyfriend was happy, doing what he liked, and that made you happy too. 

 You should’ve seen it coming. Now, you wish you’d been more selfish.

* * *

 You come home from training late one night and Makoto isn’t home. You’re not surprised–you know his shift schedule like the back of your hands so you’re aware that he’s working a twenty-four hour shift today and won’t be back till the next morning. You’re glad he has the next two days off; it’s only been three months since he started working full time at the fire station and the perpetual bags under his eyes suggests that he hasn’t gotten used to the mental and physical exhaustion of working twenty-four hour shifts. 

 After a quick shower, you curl up on the sofa in the living room with a a mug of tea. You don’t have training tomorrow, so you decide that you’ll stay up and wait for Makoto to come home. For awhile, you soak in the silence, thinking about how fast time flies.

 Six years ago, Makoto told you that he loved you. You’d looked away and mumbled, “Took you long enough,” to hide the fact that your cheeks felt hot and that you were over the moon. You’ve known Makoto for as long as you can remember and with each passing year, you fall harder for him–the way he laughs, the way he blushes when he’s embarrassed, his honest, guileless personality and his inherent selflessness and kindness.

 You’ve watched him grow from the little boy who was afraid of the ocean, to the talented backstroke swimmer and Captain of Iwatobi’s swim team, and now he’s the brave firefighter who risks his life to rescue others. You never thought it was possible to love someone so much, to look at someone and know you’ll do absolutely anything for that person.

 And this kind of all consuming love should be terrifying but you aren’t scared; to you, he’s your best friend, the love of your life, and you know he feels the same and you’re able to take comfort in the sense of security you feel in your relationship. 

 When you’re with him, you feel safe, loved and accepted and that’s more than you’ve ever felt with your parents and you think that maybe that’s what a ‘home’ is supposed to feel like. They say “home is where the heart is” and you used to wonder what the phrase meant as kid, but now you understand–home is wherever Makoto is. 

* * *

 It’s 5:00 a.m. when your phone starts ringing. You’d dozed off sometime after midnight but the sudden shrill beeping causes you to jerk awake. You’re still groggy but as you stumble toward the sound of the phone, you feel a strange, inexplicable sense of foreboding creep up on you. It chills you to the bone and makes you quicken your pace. 

 “Hello?” you say into the receiver, louder than you intended, and you hear the faint undertone of panic in your voice. 

 “…H-Haruka.” It’s Makoto’s mother and her voice is soft, a barely-there tremble that makes your stomach clench with fear. 

 “What’s wrong, what happened?” you say, trying to remain calm; you’re already pulling on a jacket and heading for the door. 

 She tries to reply but all that comes out is a garbled sob that turns into a wail. She’s crying uncontrollably now and you feel yourself go cold; you stop at the threshold as all sensation leaves your body.

 There’s fumbling over the line and you forget to breathe in the seconds that it takes Makoto’s father to reply with the words that send your whole world crashing. 

 “There– there was an accident…an explosion… Mako– h.. he’s passed aw–”

 The last thing you remember is the phone falling from your hands.

* * *

 It’s been a day since the accident. Makoto’s body had been brought over to Iwatobi upon his parents’ request.

 You arrive at the wake earlier than the rest of his relatives; only his family is there and it hurts just looking at them because you can’t help but see Makoto in each and everyone one of them. His mother doesn’t meet your eyes, doesn’t even glance at you, when you walk in; she just stares at the closed coffin, unseeing. Her eyes and nose are red but she’s not crying anymore, she just looks dead, hopeless, a shell of her former, vibrant self and you think that seeing her like that is infinitely more painful than if she’d been crying. 

 His father stands stoically by her side, one hand on her shoulder; he nods in your direction when you enter and you think that he’ll be this family’s life vest and keep them afloat. It’s then that you notice how the fingers on his wife’s shoulders are curled into talons and you see the slight tremble in the tight line of his lips, and you know he’s just barely keeping it together. 

 Beside him, Ran and Ren are clutching each other’s hands. Ren is crying uncontrollably and each loud sob hits you like a bullet and you almost double over because the pain is acute and it feels so real. But then your eyes land on Ran, and you watch her stare at her brother’s coffin, watch as her slender hand grips her brother’s tightly. She rubs her nose with the sleeve of her free hand; her eyes are bright with unshed tears but she refuses to cry, biting her lip so hard that it starts to bleed. 

 The weight of grief in the room is suddenly too heavy and it makes it harder to breathe and you think that that’s okay because every breath feels wrong anyway since Makoto’s not here to share it. 

 Soon, the guest start arriving. You see his co-workers, fellow firefighters you met at his graduation, and catch snippets of their conversation over the reverberating pounding in your skull; they say things like “brave”, “went back in for a little boy”, “gas leak” and “sudden explosion” and you feel the air start to grow thicker with each word you hear. At first, you think you can handle it, handle their pitying glances and their words of condolence and consolation. But each time someone hugs you, you feel the ghost of his embrace and you feel like throwing up, your lungs feel compressed and you can’t pull in enough air. 

 The tears start coming again and you can’t make them stop and you run out of the house and up the stairs to your old home and no one stops you. Your parents never sold the house, and you’re not sure what they keep it for since they’re travelling most of the time (they didn’t even come to the wake today; you doubt they even know what happened since you haven’t told them) and you’ve long since moved out but you’re relieved they kept the house because you need it today. 

 You unlock the door and you’re not even past the threshold when the memories of the times you spent with Makoto in this house hit you like a tidal wave; you feel it like a physical impact and it breaks all the bones in your body and you crumple to the ground. 

 You hear the pained keening of an animal and you wonder where it’s coming from–it sounds raw and hoarse, filled with anguish and you feel sorry for the poor creature. It takes you a moment to realise that you’re making the noise, that you’re screaming and that your throat hurts. You don’t care, it doesn’t matter, and you keep screaming as though it’ll provide some form of catharsis and you’ll be able let go of all the pain inside of you. But it’s not that easy. 

 You don’t know how long you lie there, yelling Makoto’s name and in the back of your mind you think that people will be angry at the noise you’re making but fuck them. After a while, your throat gets too dry and your cries lose volume until they’re just sporadic gasps and releases of air, forming vague syllables even you can’t quite make out. 

 Outside, the sky grows darker and you stay where you are, on the ground. You’re too exhausted to move. Your chest hurts, from the yelling and from the grief that’s eating away at you from the inside. 

 Then, you hear someone call your name and at first, you think you’re imagining it. 

 “Haru.” The voice is closer this time and a figure looms at the door, blocking the light from the streetlamp. Through the haze of pain, you think you know that voice, and it is only when you see locks of maroon hair that you recognise it. 

 “Rin,” you say, or try to say, but your voice cracks as fresh tears spring to your eyes. Everything reminds you of Makoto and you can’t escape the memories that threaten to eclipse your vision of the present moment.

 “Come on,” he says, and reaches for you. You hear the tiredness in his voice and you can tell he’s been crying too by how rough his words sound. You let him pull you up and half support, half carry you back down to Makoto’s house. 

 Most of his relatives and friends have left but Makoto’s family continues to remains vigil by his coffin. Through your tears, you see the familiar faces of Nagisa, Rei and Gou. Except they don’t really look familiar at all–their eyes are swollen and their noses are red and they all have this vacant look in their eyes, like they still can’t believe what happened. Rin sits you down with the group and pulls up a chair next to you. 

 No one talks at all and it’s such a stark contrast to how things usually are when you guys get together. Everyone just stares off in different directions–at the ground, into space, at their hands–doing everything they can to avoid the sight of the coffin and the grieving family. Nagisa is trembling from the exertion of holding himself together, of keeping the tears at bay, and Rei notices this. He pulls him into a tight hug and you have to look away because you wish Makoto was here to hug you and tell you everything was going to be okay _and you miss him so much_. Gou keeps rubbing at her eyes but fresh tears keep falling and after awhile, she just gives up and the droplets race down her cheeks and make wet splotches on the lap of her black kimono. 

 You take deep breathes and try not to throw up and soon, you lose track of time as your thoughts become too thick and sluggish and huge and clumsy. 

 You can’t remember exactly when you fall into a fitful sleep, but when you come to, Ran and Ren are curled up on the chairs on either side of you. Ran has her head in your lap and your pants are damp from her tears and Ren has his hands fisted in your shirt and his tear stained face pressed against your shoulder. You place your hands on their heads, feel their soft locks between your fingers, let out a shuddery breath and try not to cry. It’s wearying and you feel brittle, like the slightest force could shatter you into a million pieces. 

 For a long time, you just sit and stare at the air above the coffin and try to match your shaky breaths with Ran and Ren’s steady breathing.

* * *

 The next day, you manage to sit through the entire funeral and for the most part, you feel numb. You don’t listen to what the priest is saying, but you don’t run out either. Not even when Makoto’s parents walk up to the coffin to place flowers by Makoto’s head and his mother breaks down at the sight of her son’s burnt body and you feel nausea rise like a tide. Not even when they nail his coffin shut and your head pounds dully in time with each strike and you feel like you’re about to scream. 

 Through it all, Ran and Ren grip your hands so tightly that it hurts and you’re sure there’ll be marks, but you welcome the physical pain because anything is better than the hollow ache that pulses through you with each breath you take. 

 Ran and Ren leave your side momentarily after the funeral ends, and you stand in a daze, unsure of what to do and how to move on from here. You’re thinking of going for a walk along the beach, maybe swimming in the sea and drifting away into the vast ocean before finally sinking into deep blue depths, when a hand touches your elbow gently. 

 You turn and Makoto’s parents are there and they’ve got fresh tears in their eyes but what terrifies you is that they, the parents who just lost their son, are looking at you with pitying expressions. Your throat feels tight and you can’t swallow and you just stare at them, waiting.

 “He.. Makoto would–” his father’s voice breaks and he chokes back a sob. He’s gritting his teeth so hard and you watch as he tries in vain to regain his composure. 

 “Makoto would want… want you to have it,” Makoto’s mother says as his father fumbles for something inside his jacket. He produces a small box and his hands are shaking so much you think he’s going to drop whatever he’s holding.

 Gently, Mrs Tachibana wraps her hands around her husband’s and extends the box toward you. She nods in encouragement and tentatively, you take the box. Your heart is racing in your chest and your gut is twisting in knots and you forget how to breathe as you stare at the small velvet box cupped in your palms. You know what it is before you even open it, yet the sight of the white gold band still stops your heart cold. Your fingers are trembling when you pluck the ring from the box and blood is pounding so loudly in your ears that it sounds like the roaring of waves.  

 You glance back up at Makoto’s parents and his father is bawling without any reservation now, covering his mouth with his hands to stifle the loud cries that he can’t hold back anymore. Words tumble from his mouth in a garbled mess and you make out bits and pieces. “It’s….not…not fair. Ma– Makoto should’ve….been– been the one…to tell…to tell him.”

 His mother nods sadly, and she laces her fingers through her husband’s and squeezes tightly. She takes a wobbly breath and somehow manages to flash you a weak smile. “It’s engraved,” she tells you and you feel like the floor is slowly being pulled out from under you. 

 Numbly, you turn the ring in your fingers so that the light shines on the inside of the band. It reads:

  _To Haru; the ocean to my shores_

 You go as cold as the metal you hold between your fingers.

 “He loved you, Haru,” his mother says, her voice tight with pain. “We just wish he could’ve given– given you this himself.” 

 You barely hear her–her voice sounds muffled like you’re underwater, and you feel like you’re sinking, slowly, under a massive, heavy weight that keeps pushing you deeper into an abyss of pain and– 

 Anger. It surges through you, sudden and hot and you feel the breath rush out from your lungs. You feel angry–at whoever made it possible for a fire to start in the apartment building in Tokyo, at the little boy who managed to escape death because of Makoto’s sacrifice and at Makoto, _for choosing this stupid profession in the first place, damn him_.

 Your breathing quickens and you know you have to get out of there, get out before you say or do something you’ll regret. So you turn and you run and you hope his parents will understand. You don’t stop running even when you get to the main road and cars brake just inches from you and their horns blare loudly in your wake. You still don’t stop running when you get to the beach–instead, you pump your arms faster and sprint along the deserted shoreline, soaking your clothes and spraying sand and water behind you. Your lungs are burning and your muscles are screaming in protest but you ignore the pain and you run. 

 You don’t know how long you run for, but the sky is dark by the time you stop and the waves are black against the pale, moonlit shore. You’re lying on the sand and your chest is heaving and you’re sucking in lungfuls of air greedily. Your hand is still balled into a fist around the ring and your palm aches where the edge of the ring has been pressed into this whole time. 

 Slowly, as your breathing evens out, you slide it onto your ring finger.

 The sea breeze blows over you, drying the wet tear streaks along your cheeks. It’s cold and you shiver involuntarily and pain shoots through your body because _every single part of you is sore and aching_. 

 Yet, nothing hurts more than the hole in your heart and the even greater hole in your life that Makoto should’ve occupied. 

* * *

 You don’t attend the cremation. You can’t. It's too final, too painfully ironic–burning the body of a man who was killed in a fire–and you know that if you go, you’ll lose the little bit of sanity you’ve been clinging to this whole time. So you pack what little belongings you brought over and take a flight back to Tokyo, with the ring burning a hot circle around your finger. 

* * *

 The first few weeks after you return to your apartment in Tokyo are the worst because the house is exactly the same and you can picture him in it as vividly as if he were really there, moving through the apartment, tidying up. You choke at the sight of the pictures Makoto had put up when the two of you first moved in–the middle school relay photo, the high school one, random photos of the both of you on dates that he had insisted you two take. It hurts so much you want to stop existing.

 Time passes excruciatingly slowly, but for the most part you don't keep track of it. Seconds turn into minutes and minutes turn into hours and days blend together in an indistinguishable blur; you cry a lot, you don't do much else. You cry till exhaustion and sleep in fits and starts in his old shirts till they stop smelling of him and that's when you have another breakdown but this time, there's no one there to pull you above the tides of pain and longing.

 Rin, Nagisa and Rei call a lot and you consider getting up and going to answer the phone, but you never do and after awhile, the incessant ringing stops filling the all consuming silence.

 Nightmares of Makoto bursting into flames right before your eyes are a daily occurrence, and you wake up screaming his name and soaked in your sweat. You spend a lot of time thinking about wasted opportunities and how you should've said you loved him more often. You think about the little boy he'd risked his life for, the little boy he'd saved and you wish desperately for a chance to go back, to turn back time and stop him from becoming a firefighter– _because the cold, hard truth is that you'd trade any number of people for him_. Your selfishness disgusts you, and you didn't think it was possible but it makes you feel shittier than you already do.

 You forget to eat or drink and your stomach grumbles but you ignore it. You ignore it until it starts to hurt so much that you think you're going to die and you think that maybe that's okay.

 But then you see Makoto's face in your mind and he has _that_ expression on, the one he'd wear whenever he chastised you, the one that used to annoy you but now it just makes you tear up because even in death, he's looking after you and making sure you're being cared for. He was too good and too kind, and it's not fair because he didn't deserve to die.

 After that, though the pain doesn't go away, you become better at coping. You still have breakdowns–whenever you see someone with his build or his hair–but they're less frequent and you're better at keeping your tears in check until you reach home.

 Slowly but surely, you try and rebuild your life around the hollow he left; you eat better and take better care of yourself and you start swimming recreationally again. You keep yourself occupied and it keeps you sane. He's still always on your mind though–in each beat of your heart, in each steadying breath and in the weight of the ring around your finger.

 You decide that you need something to focus on, something to devote your excess of time to, now that you’ve retired from swimming competitively. So you take a portion of your savings, the money you'd won from years of professional swimming while on the Japanese national swim team, and spend it on the acquisition and renovation of a small shop house in a quieter part of town. Most of your time is spent working on setting up your cafe, deciding on a menu, painting the walls and hiring waiters and a co-chef. It's not long before the cafe is up and running. You name it 'Makoto's' because it belongs to him, because everything you are is thanks to him and his love and support. You hope he likes it.

 Following it's modest opening, your days are spent in the kitchen, creating new dishes and recreating old ones. The cafe becomes popular and its success takes you entirely by surprise.

 You start sleeping better and stop getting as many nightmares because you're often too exhausted to even think once you get off work. The circles around your eyes get lighter but they never completely disappear.

 You talk to Makoto a lot, to the picture of him you placed on your bedside, because you're afraid of forgetting him and how he looked like when he smiled. It doesn’t get easier, and you’re still getting used to the silence after your words, the silence his voice used to fill. 

 It's over a year before you're able to gather the courage to visit his family. But you do, eventually–you know it's something Makoto would've wanted and you're just sorry you couldn't bring yourself to do it any earlier.

 You ring their bell and no one answers and you think that maybe you should’ve called before coming over. You fidget and shift you weight from foot to foot and consider turning around and walking back up the hill, back to your old house. Your chest feels tight and this was a bad idea, they probably don’t even want to see–

 It’s Ren who opens the door just as you were about to leave. He’s grown even taller in the time that you were away and you see so much of his brother in his features that it knocks the wind from your lungs. It’s a split second before his eyes light up with recognition and you think you know what’s coming next–hurt and anger; you left them right after Makoto’s passing, the time when they needed you the most.

 It shocks you when his face breaks into a smile and his eyes are glassy when he throws himself at you. He’s a head taller than you now and almost as broad as Makoto had been, and when he wraps you up in a tight hug, you bite your lip to stifle a sob because it feels like _he’s_ hugging you and you can’t breathe because your chest hurts too much.

 “Oh my– Haru-chan!” Mrs Tachibana’s voice rises above Ren’s loud sobbing and you pull away from him only to be enveloped in another warm embrace. You can’t control the tears now and they fall freely and you blubber an apology for wetting her shirt. She just laughs and sniffs delicately and you know she’s crying too. 

 She kisses your cheek and pulls away, but her hands remain on your face as she calls, “Ran! Anata! Look who’s here.” 

 It’s a few seconds before Ran and Mr Tachibana round the corner of the house–they’re wearing gardening gloves and their forearms and cheeks are smeared with dirt. The moment Ran spots you, she drops the shovel in her hands and races toward you, pulling you into a hug. You smell the dizzying aroma of a medley of flowers as you hold her close and press your face against her hair. She’s laughing, they all are, and you can’t help but laugh too.

 Makoto’s father places a hand on your shoulder and he squeezes gently and he’s smiling and _you feel so warm and welcome._ You’d been so afraid they were going to reject you, turn you away after the way you left them at the funeral. You would’ve understood if they did that and you wouldn’t have held it against them. 

 You should’ve guessed that they would welcome you back with open arms though; they were Makoto’s family after all, and his parents were the ones who raised him to become the kind, loving boy you fell in love with. 

 “Will you stay for dinner?” His mother asks you. Ran has her arm linked with yours and Ren is grinning at you and Makoto’s father is smiling warmly and you feel better than you have in months.

 Your lips lift in a smile and your voice trembles with relief when you reply, “If you’ll have me.”

* * *

 Years pass. 

 You move on, but you don’t date anyone or let anyone in the way you did Makoto. You continue living in your apartment in Tokyo but you make it a point to return to Iwatobi every alternate weekend to visit the Tachibanas. You help Mrs Tachibana with the housework and Mr Tachibana with the gardening and you _try_ to help Ran and Ren with their highschool assignments. You watch as Ran and Ren grow up and all too soon, they’re heading off to college and it’s just you and Makoto’s parents during the weekends. 

 You make sure to stay in contact with Rin, Gou, Nagisa and Rei, and all of you meet up at least once a year to catch up. 

 Rin and Sousuke eventually decide to adopt a little girl and they start bringing her to your annual meet ups. You have to constantly stifle laughs at the sight of Rin and Sousuke being such doting parents, so much so that Rin comments on how you never used to laugh this much when you guys were younger. 

 Gou ends up marrying Momotarou, which comes as a shock to everyone, even the groom himself. You attend their wedding and it’s small and simple, but Gou is practically glowing with joy and you can tell that he makes her really happy. 

 Nagisa and Rei start an animal shelter, which is basically their version of a big happy family, and you go over occasionally to help out because you know Rei’s the one doing the actual work while Nagisa just plays with the animals. 

 Ran and Ren start dating and they eventually bring their significant others home on the weekends and it surprises you when Ran brings home a petite girl with a shy smile. You’re happy for her though, and you know her parents are too, and you all welcome the new additions to the family with open arms. 

 You continue working at the cafe till your hands start to shake too much for you to continue, and then you hand over the business to your successor, a hardworking young man who’d been working at the cafe since you first opened it.

 You start growing weaker and your joints start to ache. Your hair that doesn’t fall off starts to grey, and then turn white. Your skin starts to shrivel up around your bones and the hollows of your cheeks grow more prominent. 

 Ran and Ren start visiting you instead, once you become too sickly to travel to Iwatobi on a fortnightly basis. Eventually they, with the help of their respective partners, help you move out of your apartment in Tokyo and into the guest room of Ren’s house in Iwatobi. 

 For awhile, everyone is happy. You meet Ren’s children and they ask you to tell them stories of your time as a national swimmer and you do; it makes their eyes light up and a pleasant warmth fills your chest every time they kiss you goodnight. Sometimes, before you can stop yourself, you twist the ring around your finger and wonder if this is what it would’ve been like if Makoto had not passed away–if the two of you had gotten married and adopted children of your own. 

 As the weeks pass, you grow weaker still and you spend more time sleeping. You start coughing a lot too and Ren calls for a doctor. The doctor smiles a lot as he presses a stethoscope to your chest and later, when he draws blood. A few weeks later, you hear Ran and Ren talking outside your room in hushed tones, and you strain your ears and manage to catch a few words here and there. “Old age….Not long…like losing big brother…mum and dad…again.”

 Your breathing becomes more shallow and you see the heightened worry in Ren’s eyes–though he tries his best to hide it–when he holds your hands in his and tells you about his day at work. 

 You know what’s happening–you’re old and your time has come. But you don’t want Ran and Ren and their families to worry, so you do your best to be lively when they’re in your room, and you smile and laugh a lot. This eases the tension in their shoulders, and the worry in the tightness of their eyes slowly ebbs away each day. 

 Until finally, you know you can’t put it off anymore, and you summon the last reserves of your strength to tell everyone goodbye. 

 This time, after you finish telling Ren’s children stories about pools full of cherry blossom petals, you hug them gently and plant goodnight kisses on the crowns of their heads. They beam at you before scurrying off to bed and you feel a twinge in your chest.

 Ren wanders in after tucking his kids into bed and Ran follows close behind and something tells you that they know. You smile at them and beckon them closer and they fold into your arms like they used to when they were little. You hear a sniffle and feel wetness against your neck and the corners of your vision darkens. 

 “Thank you,” you say and you mean it. You didn’t think you could be happy again after Makoto’s death and yet, you managed to live quite a fulfilling life and it’s all thanks to them and their parents and your friends. Your eyelids feel heavy and you can’t find the strength to keep them open anymore. As they flutter close, you feel the solid weight of the ring around your finger, and you slide your thumb along the smooth, cool surface of the band one last time. There’s something tugging at your consciousness, telling you to let go–

 So you let go.

* * *

 It’s dark when you open your eyes again and the silence is so loud it makes your ears ring. You’re alone and you wonder where you are. It hits you then that maybe you were wrong in thinking you would see Makoto again once you passed on. Your heart squeezes painfully at the thought and you feel yourself coming apart at the seams just like the belief that’d kept you going all this time.

 And then you hear it.

 “Haru.” Your breath catches in your throat and you turn; you’ve been waiting so _so long_ to hear that voice and it sounds exactly the same–you would know that voice anywhere, in any life time. 

 Makoto is standing a few feet away from you and the moment your eyes meet, the world bursts into colour, and you realise that you’d been living in monochrome every day since his death. You’re both illuminated in iridescent light and he doesn’t look a day older than you last saw him alive, and you can’t breathe _and you breathe better than you’ve been able to in a while._  

 You take a small step forward and then break into a full on run, and it doesn’t even occur to you that he might not be real, that he might be a hallucination, until you’re inches away from him. It makes you hesitate and your steps falter.

 But then his arms wrap around you and pull you close and you feel the heat radiating off his body _and he’s solid, warm and real in your arms and you’re never letting him go_. You breathe him in and you know it shouldn’t be possible but he smells just like he used to–the apple-scented shampoo he used to use mixed with his own musk, the smell you’d missed. Your fingers fist in his shirt and you cry, but this time the tears are happy tears. 

 “Haru,” he says, tenderly, in that way that he does that makes it sound as though he’s caressing your name and you hear all his love, affection and care for you encompassed in that one word. You pull away just slightly–you were apart for so long and you miss the feel of his skin against your fingers, and you don’t want to stop touching him because you’re afraid that he’ll disappear the moment you do–and you look up at him.

 He’s smiling, his eyes crinkled at the corners, and his lashes are wet with tears. He squeezes your hands tightly and says, “Welcome home.”

 Your chest explodes in happiness and it’s like you’re both eighteen again, giddy with joy after Makoto had told you how he felt. You pull him down into a kiss and your lips move against his like no time has passed; every cell in your body remembers him and you fit against each other like two pieces of a puzzle. 

 You’re finally home. 

 

End


End file.
